


Giving In

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Baking, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: You try to surprise Loki with a batch of freshly-baked cookies, but he’s got other plans.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 15
Kudos: 244





	Giving In

If someone had told you, even just a few months ago, that you would soon be holed up in your little apartment in the city with Loki of Asgard, coexisting with each other on a day-to-day basis, you would have laughed in their face. If they’d told you that you’d be baking cookies together, you might have considered getting them professionally evaluated. But, sure enough, the two of you stood at the counter in your kitchen poring over a recipe on your phone and bickering about the safety of eating raw cookie dough.

“You’re going to get sick,” he warned, twisting away to try to get the bowl out of your reach. “And you’re not setting foot in a hospital right now.”

You allowed yourself to pout at him a little before reaching to try to snag another chunk from the bowl. “It’s _fine_ , Loki. No one gets sick from cookie dough anymore. The egg industry is too well-regulated.” Victory! You smirked at him a little before popping the dough into your mouth.

Baking cookies had been your idea. Going a little stir-crazy from being shut up inside your home, you’d pulled up a recipe on a whim and discovered that you had everything you needed. You’d started this mission entirely on your own, halfway wanting to surprise Loki with a batch of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, but he’d wandered into the kitchen too early and insisted on joining you.

He put the bowl on the far edge of the counter, out of reach, and then advanced towards you. He could still be a little intimidating when he loomed above you like that, when he bore down on you with his eyebrows furrowed. You squeaked a bit, half fear and half excitement, even as he pinned you against the counter with his hands on your waist. Something about him made you feel so small as he slanted his mouth over yours and claimed you. He kissed you hungrily, hands and tongue roaming, exploring, stealing your breath and making you dizzy. You patted his chest and turned your head away to breathe, and had to laugh a little giddily when he immediately descended upon your neck.

“Isn’t this better than possibly risking your life on uncooked dough?” he growled against your skin. He was still gripping your waist tightly, holding you close. “I can kiss much more sweetly than anything you could bake.” Were you imagining things, or did he sound jealous? You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“Your kisses _are_ things of beauty,” you agreed, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “But sometimes a girl just _needs_ a cookie. It’s nothing personal.” With that, you dragged his mouth back down to yours and kissed him back, just as fiercely as he’d kissed you. The timer on the oven went off, making you flinch a bit, and you patted his shoulder in hopes of freeing yourself. “The oven’s preheated. Come on, let me put the cookies in.”

Loki gave a long-suffering sigh, but did, in fact, release you. You retrieved the bowl from where he’d left it, as well as a couple of spoons for portioning out the cookies, and got to work. Knowing full well your proclivity towards eating the raw dough, you’d purposely made more dough than the recipe called for, so you felt very little guilt for popping another little ball of dough in your mouth. When Loki said your name in that low, warning tone, you formed a little ball for him and held it out to him. 

“Try some. One bite, that’s all, and I promise you’ll understand. If you don’t, I’ll stop eating it.” Loki had a sweet tooth: that was one of the first things you’d ever learned about him. When you’d brought a batch of these cookies to work in the Tower and he’d finally gotten hands on one, he’d practically set up shop near the platter, glowering at anyone who tried to get near them.

Loki narrowed his eyes at you, but you couldn’t miss the way they sparkled. God, he was gorgeous. After a moment’s pause, he finally stepped closer and bent down a bit to take the dough right out of your hand. You watched expectantly as he chewed and, sure enough, his face softened in pure bliss. Gratified, you returned your attention back to the bowl of dough. There was no sense in gloating. You both knew that you’d been right.

“Why do you bother baking it?” Loki finally asked after a bit, reaching past you to steal another hunk. “This is already the most perfect food!”

“Well—because the cookies are good too, Loki. Don’t you remember?” You’d filled one tray with dough, so, before he could steal one of the little balls, you put it safely into the oven. “They just take a little bit more patience than the dough does.” You lined a second tray with parchment paper and, while you were thus distracted, Loki grabbed yet another fistful of dough. Given the argument you’d just won, you were a little hesitant to protest this too fiercely, but...come on. Had _you_ eaten that much? Surely not, right?

“I am not a patient man.” His gorgeous voice was a little bit muffled by the, frankly, obscene amount of cookie dough that he was chewing. When he reached past you again for yet another handful, you blocked the dough with your body, trying your best to curl yourself around the bowl. 

“Okay, enough! If you keep this up, there won’t be any left to bake. And I really want cookies, Loki.” And you also didn’t really want him to throw up a bellyful of raw cookies. You glanced at him over your shoulder. “Please let me bake these? Please?”

“Alright, fine,” he said with a heavy sigh. He reached for—and got—one more handful of dough, but then retreated to a safer distance away from you and the bowl. “Only because you’ve asked so nicely. And because I do remember your cookies.”

You managed to section out the rest of the dough into cookies on the sheet with no further trouble, and put them into the oven with the others. Loki finished his final handful of dough, looking altogether more beautiful than any creature had any right to look while licking sticky stuff off of their hand. He also looked rather pleased with himself. Fine. You wiped your hands on the sides of your legs and went over to him. When you put your arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss, he obliged, but then pushed you away with a tortured groan.

“What is it?” It was hard to admit, but it stung a little, the way he’d pushed you away. He crossed his arms over his stomach and groaned again. “Loki?”

“It’s my stomach,” he all but whispered. “I don’t feel well. Could it be the eggs, do you think?” He furrowed his brow at you. Poor thing. You laughed despite yourself but then reached to smooth down his hair. 

“It’s more likely all the sugar. You ate, like, half a batch there. Are you going to throw up?”

The look he gave you could have withered stone. When you didn’t shrink before him, he did shake his head at you, and then gave you an even-more pathetic look. “Will you rub my stomach? Sometimes that helps.”

On the one hand, you were honored that he already felt so comfortable, so safe, that he could ask you for such a thing. On the other hand, you wanted to give him a hard time for making himself sick when he’d just warned you against doing the same thing. After a few moments, the former instinct won out, and you nodded. There was probably no point in making him feel worse about it. You reached down and took his hand—the one without the cookie dough residue—and brought it up to your lips.

“Alright. Come on, let’s go to the living room.”

He was almost laughably different as you led him to your couch. Here and there he’d groan pathetically, and he moved with a gingerness that you’d never seen in him before. When he was finally stretched out in your lap, with his feet hanging off the other end of the couch, you placed your hand gently on his stomach, on top of his shirt. Almost immediately, he closed his hand around your wrist and tilted his head up to pout at you. 

“No, _under_ my shirt,” he said. He sounded miserable, but undeniably commanding. With a soft smile, you allowed him to guide your hand under his shirt. His belly was soft, but you knew from experience that that was only because he was not currently flexing. You were...rather intimately familiar, by now, with all of the muscles of his body. You touched him in gentle circles, falling into a rhythm that you hoped was soothing enough.

You reached out to comb the fingers of your free hand through his hair. He sighed. You told yourself that he sounded happier, but his face did not change. You kept up your attention anyway, brushing your fingertips along his soft skin and through his silken hair. Before...all this, you couldn’t remember having moments like this: moments so quiet and...intimate. You felt your cheeks grow warm but merely tilted your head back to keep Loki from spotting them and continued to touch him. Here and there, he would give another pathetic little groan, but something told you that those were more about keeping up the act. You smiled to yourself.

“There is magic in your touch,” he said after a while, and his voice was so unexpected after that extended peaceful silence that at first, he made you finch. You looked down to see him already gazing up at you. Now your cheeks warmed for another reason.

“I like touching you. I like you.” It felt so important to you that he hear that, that he understand. “You are _good_ , Loki.”

“Even when I eat half your unbaked cookies?” He smiled a little, and it was hard to stop yourself from doing the same. You gave one gentle tug to his hair and then looked away again.

“I guess I don’t mind that terribly much, since it led us here.” You worried your lip between your teeth and reached down to cover his eyes. That just felt like something you didn’t want him to _see_ you say to him. You felt shy. “I just wish you didn’t feel sick.”

He took hold of your wrist and pulled your hand away from his eyes and down to his mouth so he could press a soft kiss to the underside of your wrist. Pleasant chills rushed through you at that, and you had to fight your shiver. He opened his mouth to draw your skin between his teeth and nipped gently, knowingly. 

Before either of you could say anything, the timer in the kitchen buzzed again. In an instant, Loki had sat up and gotten to his feet, eyes shining. “They’re done!” He said, reaching to take your hand and pull you to your feet. “The cookies!”

You allowed him to help you up, but did not follow him when he tried to pull you into the kitchen. He was moving pretty spryly for someone who, only fifteen minutes ago, appeared to be knocking at death’s door. You crossed your arms and tilted your head as you looked at him, trying to figure out what, exactly had been his game. 

When he turned to look at you, his eyed widened a bit, likely realizing that he’d been caught in the act, and he gave you a dazzling smile. “It’s the magic!” he exclaimed, reaching to take your hands again. “I told you, you have the healing touch. I’m well again, darling, and it’s all thanks to you. Now come _on_ , love, the cookies will burn!”

This time, you let him pull you into the kitchen. Sometimes it was just easier to give in.


End file.
